


The Chicken fic

by Broken_Story_locker



Category: jacksepticeye, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Blood, Cartoon-ish Violence, Crude Humor, Dark jokes (not Darkiplier), Dick Jokes, Insanity involving a chicken and being framed for a lot of murder, Might continue to add to the story later on, Not Suitable/Safe For Work, nudity?, possible trigger warnings, the total chaos of a universe that runs almost purely on bad puns and a little bit of plot, trust me it's not porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-07-10 13:44:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15950555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Broken_Story_locker/pseuds/Broken_Story_locker
Summary: A story written out of boredom. It is hard to explain any of what is happening aside from the beginnings of a series of events where Mark gets framed for murder and Jack had a chicken trapped in his New York apartment. I am going to have to say sorry ahead of time. It is a disaster.





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1:

Mark knocks on the open doorway to Jack's room “Hey, Jack, I have something to tell you.”  
Jack, watching porn, pants-less, is caught off guard by Mark's unexpected arrival.  
Jack quickly pulls up his pants. Mark pulls down his own pants. Jack pulls up his pants even higher. Mark's pants completely meld through the floorboards, leaving him in just his boxers.  
Jack, with his pants up to his nipples, nods and says “Well played. So what brings you here?”  
“I am here to tell you that dyed hair is the mullet of the future.”  
“I...I don't know how to respond to that.”  
Mark gets wayyy up close to Jack and whispers in his ear “May I?”  
The green on whispers back “Of course.”  
Mark grabs a hold of Jack's cock and rubs it's head.  
“Isn't it illegal or something to keep a rooster in a rented home?” He says holding the chicken.  
“Not where I come from.”  
“And where is that exactly?”  
“You already know.”  
“From on top of the fridge at taco bell?”  
“What? No. Just because I hangout there a lot doesn't necessarily mean I was born there.”

Suddenly the somewhat controversial Pewdiepie comes smashing through the bedroom window sending shards of broken glass everywhere. Jack turns and smiles “Oh, hey, Felix.”  
Pewds fist bumps Jack with his bleeding hand “Sup, Jack. How are-” Just then he catches sight of Mark holding the chicken “SON OF A BITCH! Mark! How come you get to hold Sean's cock and I don't?!?”  
Mark retracts the bird away from Felix and yells “Because you don't know a thing about handling big juicy cocks!” Mark says this in a way that makes the 'o' in 'cock' sound more like an 'aw'.  
Felix tackles Mark. Jack goes to part them “Guy! Guys! Stop fighting!”  
They ignore Jack.  
Pewds is yelling in Swedish too complicated for the other two to understand and is on top of Mark smooshing his face under his hand.  
Mark sputters out “It is my time with the chicken!”  
Felix yells something that sounds like “GIV MIG, FUCKING, BIRD, Innan jag skar det upp din rumpa!”  
Keep in mind that the only person who speaks fluent Swedish in this scenario is Felix himself, so nobody can understand what the hell he is saying at the moment.  
A good assumption though of what he may be saying is “GIVE ME THE , FUCKING, BIRD, BEFORE I SHOVE IT UP YOUR ASS!” given context.  
They were fighting so hard that they failed to notice the chicken jump out the 30th story window.  
Jack screamed “Noooooooooooooo!” He runs to the frame and sees the chicken gliding to safety “Ya! Zelda was right!” Jack's hands are now also bleeding.

 

Chapter 2: Chicken's Diary

I felt the wind rushing through my feathers as I threw myself out of the green-man's apartment window. Finally free after being trapped for what seemed like years. Putting the past behind me I glide gently to the sidewalk below. My feet touching the ground was like a blessing from god. I saw movement on the pavement in front of me, it was a large juicy beetle. Filled with delight I yelled to the

clouds “A feast! And a savory one at that!”  
Swiftly I swung my beak down to spear the beast be for it could get a chance to flee. After having only been fed a sickly sweet pastry, “Twinkies” as the green-man called it, I felt the bug had made up to be the best meal of my entire life. So I set off to kill myself. As luck would have it I was standing next to an interstate. My toes curled over the curb as I prepared to face the metal river and seal my fate. A car sped past causing a gust of air to knock me back from where I was perched. I pondered 'Such power! My death shall be swift!'  
I stood and breathed momentarily before throwing myself into the rapids. Halfway across I collided sharply with the shining steal bar of a large van. As I rolled over it's face time came close to halting. I let out a last string of words fitting of the moment. “Why did the chicken cross the road, you ask? It was to get to the other side.”

 

Chapter 3: back to the trio

Jack is silent and drenched in tears, as his friends stand at either side of him at the sill.  
Felix broke the silence “Is any body going to point out the fact that not only did it die trying to cross the road, but that it was killed by a truck that has P.E.T.A. printed on the side?”  
“We should E-mail Bo Burnham about this.” Jack stated.  
“Why do you say that?”  
“It just feels the type of thing he would like to hear about.”  
“oh.”

Several months later, Jack is up late one night when he notices that he has gotten a notification from Bo.  
{BB: Hi, Jack.

JM: Hey, dude what's up!?

BB: I made a song based on that message you sent me. It's called 'Ironic'. I will send a link over to you so you can listen to it if you want.

JM: Cool! Thanks bro.

BB: [Link to song]

BB: [Link to porn]

BB: DO NOT CLICK THE SECOND LINK I ACCIDENTALLY SENT PORN

JM: I miss clicked... I can't say that I'm surprised that you are into that.

JM: How did you manage to 'accidentally' link me to porn after you already sent the music?

BB: ...

BB: I will be right back. I think my living room just caught fire.}

 

Jack scrolled back up and clicked over to the song. Once it is over he goes to bed.  
(At Bo's place the entire living room is engulfed in flames. “Why the fuck does this keep happening!?!” he screams angrily as he waving around his running kitchen sink faucet extension, on full blast.)

 

The next morning, Mark is in his pajamas, eating chocolate marshmallow cereal, sitting cross-legged on the couch. He is watching Adventure Time when the doorbell rings. Without pausing the show, he gets up, bowl in hand, to get the door. Opening it there is a cop on the steps.  
Mark asks “What can I do for you, Officer?”  
“Not to disturb, but have you seen this man by any chance?” The cop unrolls the printed image of a similar looking to Mark, the only difference being a large mustache dyed pink.  
“I have never seen that person be for in my life.” Mark is starting to look visibly nervous.  
The cop is suspicious “Is something bothering you?”  
“Nope.”  
“Sir, may I come inside for a moment?”  
“Okay, but you will have to take off your foot wear first. I just got the floors waxed.”  
The cop takes off their shoes. Once inside they notice that the tv is on full volume and everything smells like it was deep-cleaned that day. He wanders scanning the place for anything else out of normal. The front door is slammed shut. Turning around to look the cop sees now that something is horribly wrong. From across the room Mark has a menacing cocky grin.  
“Is everything alright?” the cop is mentally preparing for the possibility of a fight.  
Mark waltzes slowly forward in a path toward the officer. “Everything would have been fine, had you have kept your nose in your own gosh dang fucking beeswax.” Marks voice is different and somewhat slurred. The cop reaches for his gun and finds only an empty holster. Looking back up Mark is now the man off the poster. “Are you looking for this?” The man sinks his hand deeper than what should be physically possible into the bowl of cereal he is holding, and pulls out the gun now drenched in sugary milk. Scared the cop attempts to talk down the situation “Sir, put down the weapon.”  
“Why do you policemen never let a guy have some fun once in a while?” He is absent minded using the gun to gesticulate with his words, as if he was born with it in his hand “It's not like anybody has gotten hurt by it.” The gun goes off, killing the cop. Fazed the mustached person says “Oh, shit.” he then regains his composure “Welp, Wilford, you sure fucked up. Let's hope that whoopsy daisy never happens again.” He glances around the room to make sure nobody is near by. He is alone.  
“Now what to do with this dead body?” while pondering Wilford folds his arms and put his free hand tapping at his chin. The hand stills for a moment before he swings his arms out and cheers “I've got it!” forgetting that he still is holding the gun, it fires off once more. Plaster dust rains down from the ceiling above. Wil puffs a cough. A good portion of it had landed over him.  
Acting as if nothing had happened, Wilford set off to go dispose of the body.


	2. the unexpected continuation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They are gaining self-awareness.

CHAPTER 4: Jack has weird dreams

Jack snaps into a an upright seated position, awoken from his sleep drenched in a cold sweat. No wait, he was wrong. It was not a cold sweat. A water pipe had burst under the apartment above his room and there is a good few inches of water across the floor of the room. He’s going to have to report that to the landlord. Aside from the water damage, Jack had a dream premonition. It was Mark getting kidnapped by the son of a circus ringmaster and a cotton candy clown during a police drug raid of a slaughterhouse missing the letter ‘s’ making it a ‘laughterhouse’. Jack could have sworn that he saw that on an episode of a crime show once... maybe.   
It was hard for him to think clearly with the roaring of the water rising up to his chin. He decides to go for a walk to clear his mind.  
The street in front of his home was still stained from the accident. You would think that the road being completely replaced with solar panels would have obliterated the chalk lines. I guess the workers had other ideas because they redid the outline in the shotty LEDs of the panels. Burdened with the reminder Jack looked at the palms of his hands. They were still bleeding as fresh as the day the window got him years ago.  
‘How have they not stopped bleeding?’ he thought. Continuing onward, the billboards on the sides of buildings displayed a looping news feed from a live courtroom trial that had started over again within the week. Mark may have been innocent but the amount of evidence on the contrary was hard to debate. Jack felt as if he could have done more to save him, but that wasn’t how it had played out. Rain began to trickle down the surface of everything, it was weird. Not a cloud in the sky and yet cars and offices became slick in a shiny film of liquid as if turned into mall fountains. The streets were flooding. Jack upon taking a glance at his hand again out of curiosity found that they were now a spewing pair of fire hoses.   
Jack woke up angry in his bed room.   
Throwing everything off of the nightstand he uses his cellphone to call mark and yells to him “I’m not a firetruck!”  
Mark completely understanding, says “I told you that that lucid dreaming drink was a scam. If you don’t mind me asking, why to you want to be a firetruck anyways?”  
Jack goes to say something pauses then replies “Actually, I can’t remember. It was something to do with spontaneous combustion or something.”  
“Ah, ya. It sucks when that happens. Sorry to derail you but would you mind coming down to LA for a little while? Somebody expertly cleaned my entire fucking house and filled the basement with dead bodies.”  
Jack was suddenly more awake, “Wait-wait-wait. What the fuck? Did you just say what I think you just said?”  
Mark spoke at a slower pace “Yes. Somebody, I don’t know who but, somebody broke into my house and left bodies here.”  
“That’s not good.”  
“No shit. I am honestly at a loss of words right now.”  
A knock came at the front door of Jack’s apartment.  
“I know this is important but I am going to need you to hold on for a second. Somebody is knocking.” Jack momentarily stops mark to answer the door.  
Looking through the peep-hole he is surprised to find Mark is on the other side.  
“Is something wrong?” Mark asks over the phone.  
Jack whispers “Mark? When did you get back to LA?”  
Genuinely confused Mark askes “I left? Jack, who’s at the door?”  
Thinking quickly Jack reassures his work partner over the phone “Never mind. It’s just a delivery person. I think a fan was trying to send you something on a missguided whim to my place.”  
“Well that is some unusual timing.”  
Jack begins to mentally withdrawal as he attempts to end the phone call, “I know right. I have to sign paperwork. Talk to you later.”  
The call is cut from Mark’s end of the line. Jack takes a deep breath in preparation of opening the door.  
He opens it and Mark greets him, “Morning Jack, Sorry to bother you but I missed the flight and I think I might have left my bluetooth speak here-... Is everything alright? You look a little pale.”  
Jack tensed as he spoke “I just was in a call with you and you were in LA. You said there was a corpse pile in your house, Mark. How do I know this is the real you.”  
“Are you talking about me or the phone call, because I’m standing right here in front of you. What bodies?” Mark was concerned by this information.  
Jack asks a question that he believes only he and Mark would know the answer to.  
“Mark, what happened back stage at vidcon?” Jack pressed in a tone solid and flat as a cement patio.  
Mark was hesitant, “I thought that we made a deal not to talk about that.”  
Jack pried “Mark. Tell me what happened backstage at vidcon.”  
“Okay, fine. You found me writing fan fiction.” Mark grumbled.  
“Fan fiction about?”  
“Fan fiction were 40K was taking place in a magical girl alternate universe similar to Sailor Moon. There. Are you happy?” Mark spouts frustratedly.  
“There we go. You are definitely the real you, No doubt about it. I still don’t get why Horus’s outfit would need so much feathers on it.”   
Mark shot back “It’s goddamn Horus, why shouldn’t he have feathers on his suit?”  
Jack laughed sarcastically “Ah, Mark,” he then was serious again “We have to find out what happened at your house while you were here. Preferably before this can get any worse than it already is.”

 

CHAPTER 5: It gets worse.

Arriving and Mark’s house a day later, the location was amiss. The grass was trimmed shorter than when they had left, the house was laden with chemical scents, Chicka’s food bowl was filled even though she was being baby sat at a friend’s place, there was no dust, and anything that was not bolted down had been moved three inches to the right.  
Mark and Jack were locked into a sort of bewildered awe at the insane glory of the scene before them. The longer they looked the more it set in that the entire house had been fiddled with.  
“Wow…” slipped from Jack’s mouth absentmindedly.  
Mark set down his car keys in a tray next to the front door, in a habitual motion.   
Scratching his chin, he took notice, ”Whoever did this must have an ungodly attention to detail.”  
Jack inspected an altered picture on the wall, as he added “Or worse, a terrifying obsession. Is there anyone you can think of who would do something like this?”  
Mark chose not to tell the truth just yet. After years of running and building a new life for himself, he could not bare to risk losing it all again.  
Opting for an easy way out, Mark lied to Jack.  
“I have no clue. It must have been a stalker or something.” he supplied.  
Jack froze unexpectedly.  
“Jack, what’s wrong?” Mark asks.  
“I don’t think your house is the only thing that was messed with. It hit me, just now, that I never owned a chicken or even an apartment in New York.”   
Jack chose to jump headlong into the moment as if to fight off the illusion over taking him.  
Jack held up his hands for the other man to get a good look, “Mark. Look at my hands, tell me what is wrong.”  
Mark cautiously holds Jack’s wrists steady as he inspects him.  
“Your hands have always been bleeding, I don’t see what’s so weird about it.”  
Jack pulls one of his hands back and gives Mark a firm wet slap across the face.  
“Ow! What was that for?!” Mark shouted.  
Jack yelled “For focks sake Mark! Somethin’ is screwing with our heads! We need to get our shit together and focus on piercing the veil!”  
“What!?” Mark didn’t like were this was going, and it seems the slap hurt his feelings more than it physically did.  
Jack tried to create an example of the glitching universe. Going on a hunch he lifted up his hands to Mark again.  
“How many fingers am I holding up.” Jack said requesting his attention.  
“You’re just going to slap me again aren’t you.” Mark reacts with skepticism.  
Jack jiggles his hands to stress Mark's attention back to him, “No. Just tell me how many fingers I am holding up.”  
“Fine.” Mark scoffs, then after counting says “Twelve.”  
Jack is slightly relieved that this is making progress, “Okay good. Now tell me how many fingers people sopoised are to have.”  
Mark is getting sassy, “Five on each hand. Yes, of course I am counting a thumb as a finger. Can we hurry up, I don’t have time to be messing around-”  
Jack interrupts, “Think about what you just said about my hands. What does five plus five add up to.”  
“Why are you talking to me as if I am a child?! I know my numbers! Five plus five is ten! Boom! Easy! Now why is that-” Mark cut himself off. ‘If five plus five is ten then why does Jack have twelve fingers?’ The realisation finally drilled into the forefront of his mind like an earth worm had gotten trapped in there.   
Jack said “Now do you see what I mean?”  
Mark tried not to freak out, “How… How long has it been like this?”  
“I don’t know, but I’m starting to think we will have to figure out what is real or not in order to get things back to normal.”

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a month before the WKM videos and didn't post it until now.


End file.
